


world's greatest uncle

by 49percentchanceofbees



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Birthday Presents, Canonical Character Death, Endgame, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-03-16 21:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13644483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/49percentchanceofbees/pseuds/49percentchanceofbees
Summary: Nothing will stop Ardyn Lucis Caelum from purging his world of the Starscourge -- not even himself.The Chosen King's task would be much more difficult if he didn't have his uncle looking out for him.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Regis saw Ardyn, he knew the man was trouble; trouble of a type perhaps not even he, the King of Lucis, was equipped to deal with.

 

Noctis had just been chosen. It was a trying time, as Regis struggled to come to terms with the fact that rather than living out a long and happy reign, his son would die to purge the Starscourge. It was not, perhaps, the best time to find that a man with a large axe had snuck into his private office.

 

“If you’re thinking of calling one of your many bodyguards,” Ardyn said, before Regis could react to his presence at all, “you may wish to save your breath. They can’t hear you.”

 

An icy calm fell over Regis as he reached out and summoned his own blade, ready to fight for his life. But the other man just stood there, leaning casually on the axe, one eyebrow raised.

 

“How disappointingly inhospitable,” he said. “Are you going to stab me?”

 

“Who are you and what do you want?” Regis demanded, holding his blade in guard, bypassing the question of how he’d gotten in here for now.

 

“Consider me a distant cousin.” The man smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Or perhaps a  _ very _ great uncle. I’ve come to give you a gift, of course. For little Noctis, to celebrate his anointment.”

 

The man lifted the axe, and Regis tensed, but instead of attacking, he offered it to Regis, handle first.

 

“Noctis is five,” Regis said, taking note: Noctis’ status had not yet been made public, and perhaps never would be. “He doesn’t want an axe.”

 

“In my experience,” said the stranger, “all little boys are terrors and want nothing more than to run about at top speed waving deadly weapons. But should you find my gift so inappropriate, you are welcome to hold onto it until he reaches an opportune age. Do take it, though; it required a great deal of effort to find, and my arm is getting tired.”

 

Regis glanced down at the axe for the first time and saw the royal emblem engraved into the haft. He put a hand on it, experimentally, not actually taking its weight. “Where did you get the Axe of the Conquerer?”

 

“From his tomb, of course.” With a look of bored contempt flashing over his face, the stranger released the axe, dropped it: Regis tried automatically to grab it, realizing only after he’d begun the motion that doing so would open him up to an attack. None came, but that hesitation cost Regis his chance to actually catch the thing; it clanged to the floor. “Oh dear. What a disrespectful treatment of such hallowed ancient weaponry.”

 

Regis did not bend down to pick up the weapon, as doing so would have left him vulnerable. He just stared at Ardyn. “Why are you doing this?”

 

“As I said: for Noctis.” The man sighed, something like sincerity entering his face. “Your son has quite a task ahead of him, Your Majesty.”

 

Whatever sincerity might have been there left on the honorific: it sounded distinctly sarcastic.

 

“I happen to possess the capacity and interest to make that road a little easier, and I intend to, whether you sanction my activities or not; though it would be rather easier if I didn’t have to circumvent your guards.”

 

There should’ve been someone here already, Regis realized, drawn by the sound of the axe hitting the ground. So the man had been truthful when he said Regis’ bodyguards couldn’t hear him.

 

“I thought you might appreciate the notice.” The man raised a hand and tipped his hat to Regis, a certain languid arrogance to the motion. “That is all. Worry not; I’ll see myself out.”

  
_ He dismisses the King of Lucis like a serving-boy _ . By the time Regis could finish the thought, the lights flickered, and Ardyn had vanished, without leaving so much as his name. Only the axe proved that he had ever been there at all.


	2. Chapter 2

And so it went. Over the years, Regis did not so much come to trust Ardyn as accept the fact that he could not stop him: could not stop him from entering the palace, could not stop him from speaking to Noct. At first the latter visits were brief, as Ardyn -- who eventually did introduce himself that far, at least -- seemed disinterested in a child’s babblings, but they lengthened into serious conversations as Noct aged. And he came bearing gifts, often: Royal Arms that otherwise would have required an arduous search of tombs; weapons, gems, tomes, a myriad of rarities; and occasionally even something actually suited for a boy of Noct’s age.

 

And occasionally something extremely unsuited. As the years went by, the war with Niflheim ebbed and flowed, flowed and ebbed. When Noctis was 15, he expressed to Ardyn his weariness with the endless war, his concern for the toll it took on his father. For Noctis’ 16th birthday, Ardyn brought him the emperor’s head.

 

This was at Noctis’ personal birthday party, not the official, royal celebration; only a few friends were in attendance. Regis made a brief appearance, but by the time Ardyn put in his own showing he’d been called away on business. The prince’s advisor and shield were there, in a personal more than a professional capacity, as was a new friend from school, and lastly -- bringing a bright smile to Noctis’ face -- Lady Lunafreya, the prince’s betrothed, an unusual presence. For reasons unknown, the Empire had released her from her typical house arrest in occupied Tenebrae just in time to travel to Insomnia for the prince’s birthday. The subject of whether she would return, and at what prompting if so, remained rather fraught, but for now, all talk of politics and war had been put aside to celebrate the prince’s birthday. At least, until Ardyn arrived.

 

A stunned silence fell in the first instant after Noctis opened Ardyn’s gift. Then, in nearly choreographed unison, everyone recoiled away from the box, except Gladio, who stepped between it and his prince as if he expected the severed head to attack.

 

“Is that real?” Prompto said, almost laughing: after the initial shock he'd decided it was a joke, if a tasteless one. 

 

“I assure you, it's the genuine article,” Ardyn said, moving to stand over his trophy. “The war is over. I've made arrangements with this poor fellow’s successors.”

 

“That's the emperor of Niflheim,” Ignis said, for those who could not identify the man from military briefings. 

 

“What the hell,” said Gladio. He switched his wary attention from gift to Ardyn, not bothering to be subtle about it. He’d never liked the man, finding his manner affected and irritating, and his presence generally suspicious.

 

“Oh, gods,” said Prompto, voice choked: he was considering being quietly sick in the corner.

 

Noctis said nothing, just stared at the head’s empty, glassy eyes. They looked vaguely surprised rather than angry or frightened; the visage seemed one of a confused old man, not a ruthless conqueror. Something brown encrusted the hairs of his beard; it took Noctis a long moment to realize it was dried blood. He should’ve known from the smell: the thick scent of death mixed terribly with the sugary aroma of the birthday cake sitting on the table next to it.

 

Lunafreya looked at Ardyn and in that moment, with the Oracle’s insight, had an inkling of who and  _ what _ he was -- and, more immediately, understood that she had him to thank for her presence at this somewhat spoiled party. Ardyn looked back at her, a small smile on his lips, and Luna saw in his cold, cold eyes that he knew what she’d just realized, and was waiting to see what she’d do with it. The Oracle should always know what to say; the gods guide her to the perfect response, every time. Well, not this time.

 

Seeing Noct and Luna frozen, Ignis took charge, calling in the Crownsguard. Their first task was to remove the head; then they attempted to escort Ardyn out of the room, and as he casually dodged their hands and explained that he could not possibly leave in the middle of his nephew’s birthday party, Noct stood up, almost pushing over his chair, and declared the party over. Then he left the room.

 

Gladio and Ignis hurried after him almost as one, while Ardyn looked after him with something like disappointment, finally allowing the guards to lead him away. Lunafreya sat at the table, head in her hands, ignoring the activity around her as the guards began searching the other gifts, just to make sure nothing else untoward had made its way in.

 

After some time, a nervous throat-clearing rang across the room, and from the corner where he’d been pushed by the Crownsguard rushing in, Prompto said, “Should I go home now? Can I go home?”


	3. Chapter 3

“How could you possibly think a severed head was an appropriate gift for -- well, anyone, but especially for a 16-year-old?” Regis demanded.

 

Ardyn looked bored. He had looked bored all throughout Regis’ attempt to berate him. Regis had previously ordered, with limited success, that Ardyn desist bringing Noctis dangerous items -- he supposed that Ardyn would offer the defense that the head was not, in fact, dangerous, at least physically. Unlucky members of the Crownsguard had examined Ardyn’s gift closely; the box held no booby-traps. And it did appear to be the genuine article, which would somewhat explain the peace overtures Regis had just received -- that, in fact, had pulled him away from Noctis’ birthday party. Perhaps Ardyn had planned it that way. In the back of his mind, Regis wondered how damaged those peace talks would be if he mentioned that the Lucian Crown currently stood in possession of the emperor’s decapitated head. Maybe the Niffs would want it back.

 

“It does concern me that Noctis didn’t like my gift,” Ardyn drawled. “He didn’t even say thank you.”

 

Regis’ jaw clenched, but decades of kingly fortitude helped him restrain himself from shouting. Instead he said, with deadly sarcasm, “Perhaps next time you should try giving him a skateboard instead of a  _ dead man _ .”

 

“Is that what the teens are into these days?”

 

“Noctis doesn’t skate.” How long had Ignis been quietly standing in the back of the room? He must have slipped in recently. “He prefers music and video games. And fishing, of course.”

 

“Has he caught one of those bass he was after yet?” Ardyn asked.

 

“Don’t change the subject,” Regis said, his voice made particularly harsh by jealousy: he hadn’t even known Noctis liked fishing. Reigning kept Regis busy, so it didn’t surprise him that Ignis knew more about Noctis’ hobbies than he did -- but  _ Ardyn _ … “Is Noctis all right?”

 

“He’s as well as can be expected, after such a shock.” Ignis pushed up his glasses. “He wishes to speak to you, Ardyn.”

 

“He wishes to speak to  _ Ardyn _ ?” Regis repeated, stung again: he might have hoped that Noctis would turn to his own father for comfort, not the cause of his distress.

 

“Well, I could not possibly keep the prince waiting,” said Ardyn, turning to the door.

 

“Wait -- ” said Regis. Ardyn did not wait: in an instant he was gone, and from experience Regis expected that if he were to open that door and attempt to pursue, Ardyn would be nowhere to be found. Not that he intended to. It would be undignified, the king running after the man like an attendant.

 

“I believe Noctis has questions about the circumstances of the emperor’s death that only Ardyn can answer,” Ignis said.

 

Regis stared.  _ What, does he want a play-by-play? _ No, even Regis knew his son better than that.

 

*

 

“I thought he’d look more like a monster,” Noctis said. “He just looked like a man. A sad old man, like someone’s grandfather.”

 

“Someday you’ll learn that the worst monsters in the world look like men,” Ardyn said, with uncharacteristic solemnity.


	4. Chapter 4

Noctis turned twenty. It was time. Even without the Empire’s interference, the daemons were growing stronger; not even the Oracle’s power could keep them at bay much longer. And Noctis wanted to start his quest, acting impatient even: he saw the strain that the delay placed on Luna, and knew that it was time to step up and do his part.

 

“How much have you told him?” Ardyn asked, watching Noctis and his friends, including Luna, drive away from the Citadel. The Regalia was a bit crowded with five people, but Noctis had invited Prompto regardless.

 

“That after forging covenants with the Six, he must use the Crystal and the Ring to purge the Scourge from our star,” Regis said. He did not take his eyes off the receding car, even as it vanished among the streets of the Crown City.

 

“So, you left out something rather significant.”

 

“That he will die doing it? Yes, I did.” Regis’ hands had gone white on the railing of the balcony on which he stood. He still wore the Ring of the Lucii, intending to give it to Noct when he returned. “How do you tell someone that? How do I tell my son that?”

 

Ardyn was quiet, contemplative for once. Then, finally: “Before someone else does.”

 

Noctis and Lunafreya made pacts with the Six together, not without difficulty: the Tidemother in particular gave them trouble, nearly destroying the city of Altissia before the prince managed to pacify her. Neither was the Infernian especially happy to be called upon, but the Prince and the Oracle managed, together, with help from their friends.

 

They returned to a great, celebratory feast in Insomnia, throughout which Noctis wondered why his father looked so solemn -- almost miserable -- rather than pleased by their success. Regis let his son have that night to bask in his victory. Then, in the morning, he summoned Noctis to a private conversation.

 

Noct emerged looking as if he had seen a ghost. And then he started saying his goodbyes.

 

“What do you mean, you ‘might not see us for a while’?” Ignis said. “We’ll be by your side anywhere you go, of course.”

 

“Can’t get rid of us that easily,” Gladio added.

 

“We made it this far,” Prompto said. “I’m sure whatever’s next, we’ll face it together -- Noct? Are you OK?”

 

“Are you  _ crying _ ?” Gladio said, incredulous.

 

The Oracle understood better what he meant, when the Chosen King said goodbye to her. She told herself she would not weep, not where he could see; that she would not make this harder for him. She was half right. They cried together, and it hurt, but it was no harder than it would have been anyway.

 

And then there was Ardyn.

 

“Did you know?” Noctis asked. He and Ardyn stood on a balcony high in the Citadel, both looking out over the Crown City. Neither of them wanted to meet the other’s eyes.

 

“Oh, yes,” said Ardyn.

 

“You could have warned me.”

 

“Would it have helped?” Ardyn posed it as a sincere question, and Noctis gave it a moment’s sincere contemplation.

 

“I don’t think I would’ve liked to have lived with this knowledge. But you gave me -- you let me expect … ” Noctis’ voice broke. He said something he hadn’t told any of the others, even his father, even Luna: “I don’t want to die. I’m scared.”

 

“I know.” Ardyn looked down at Noctis, then out at the city. When he next spoke, his tone was light, almost joking. “You could always refuse. Just say no. What are they going to do, bodily carry you to the Crystal?”

 

Noctis thought about it, far more seriously than he would have dared were he speaking to his father or even Luna. “What would I do?”

 

“There’s a big world out there. I’m sure you could find a corner of it away from all this.” Ardyn gestured down at the Citadel and up at the stars above in one motion. “You can come up with a lot of meals, fishing for one.”

 

_ For one _ , Noctis mouthed. “If I don’t … Luna and my father can’t hold back the darkness forever. Everyone I care about, everyone I’ve ever  _ met _ and everyone I haven’t -- they’d all suffer. Because I ran away.”

 

Ardyn shrugged. “Every choice has its downsides.”

 

For a long time, there was only silence. Then, finally, Noctis said: “Thank you.”

 

“So you’ve decided that it’s a quiet life in the wilderness after all?” Ardyn inquired coolly. “And you’d like to thank me for giving you the idea?”

 

Noctis sucked in a long, ragged breath. “No. But until now -- I wasn’t really committed, couldn’t really  _ be _ committed, till I thought about what would happen if I didn’t … go through with it. Save our star. Obedience or inevitability or, or destiny -- no. It’s better if it’s my choice. After all, someone has to do it.”

 

“Yes, they do.” Ardyn’s eyes were suddenly very dark, but Noctis wasn’t looking at him.

 

“And this is the only way to save everyone. Everyone I care about. Luna and my father and Gladio and Ignis and Prompto and Cindy and Iris and -- and you.” Noctis smiled up at Ardyn, though his eyes were still sad.

 

“It is the only way to save everyone,” Ardyn agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

“You lied to me,” Noctis said, ten years later.

“I imagine I’ve lied to you many times,” said Ardyn.

“No, just the once.” Noctis stepped forward, sword in hand. “You said I could save everyone. Including you.”

Ardyn’s eyes turned black and darkness poured down his face, into his open mouth. It seemed like he ought to be choking, but he still spoke clearly. “My dear boy, you are saving me.”

Noctis wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. “Why? You didn’t have to …”

“Help you? Befriend you? Make you love me?” Ardyn laughed. His voice had grown rough now, losing its usual suave tone. “Oh, but you see, there’s something in me that wants to make you suffer. And I could offer it nothing better than this.”

Noctis shook his head. “That's what you told it, isn't it? How you lied to yourself so you could help. Oh, Ardyn, I am so, so sorry.”

“Too late!” Ardyn snarled, all semblance of the man he had been lost now, lost to this black-eyed monster. “A thousand years too late! Now raise -- your -- weapon!”

Ardyn's next words, rasped from the ground as his eyes finally cleared, were, “Thank you …”

“Rest well,” Noctis said, “at last.”

“I’ll see you … soon. Noctis, I’m so … sorry …”

As Ardyn’s body vanished, Noctis stood and looked towards the throne, his next and last challenge.

“See you soon.”


End file.
